


Truth and Lies

by wilddragonflying



Series: Truth [1]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:28:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes clean about a few things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth and Lies

“Dad, you’re—Taking this well.”

John glanced up at his son, who was failing miserably at attempting to seem casual as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Taking what well?” he asked casually.

Stiles shrugged, moving farther into the small office and dropping into the chair opposite John. “The whole, y’know,” he said, waving his hand eloquently. “Supernatural thing.”

John eyed his son for a moment, debating. Then he sighed. It was about time Stiles knew. “Son, I’ve been meaning to tell you—“

“Oh that never goes well.”

“Shut up and listen. I haven’t… I haven’t been completely honest with you.” _Now_ he had Stiles’s complete attention; a rare occurrence.

“Honest? About what?”

“About what I did before I became a police officer.”

***

John laughed, resting one hip on the bar as he offered the Harvelle woman a smug grin. “Told you I could take it,” he boasted, his voice only slightly slurred from alcohol.

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure. And you absolutely _didn’t_ need your twin’s help to take out the black dog.”

John Stilinski’s gaze immediately found John Winchester, another hunter. He was a hardened man—but a family man. Always talking about his boys, Sam and Dean. So proud of both of them. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he muttered sullenly. Something about the other John just… rubbed Stilinski the wrong way.

Ellen chuckled. “You been seemin’ a bit down, son,” she said, wiping a glass with a rag. “Mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”

John turned the glass over in his hand. “Claudia.”

Ellen made a sympathetic noise. “You’re going to tell her.”

“She’s been hanging out with the local pack, with the Alpha, no less. Talia. They’re—they’re great friends. She needs to know.”

“So you’ll risk their friendship?” Ellen’s voice was sharp; it made John look up to meet her eyes.

“If it means keeping the woman I love safe, then yes,” he said, without hesitation. He’d been hunting since he was thirteen, known what really lurked in the shadows of the world since he was four.

Ellen nodded slowly. “All right.”

***

“Chris Argent isn’t the only retired hunter in town—nor is he the only one to return. My father, and his before him, and his before him were all hunters. I followed in their footsteps. I hunted those monsters who killed innocent people. My preferred weapon was a fighting staff. I liked having all of my options open.

“Then I met your mother, a girl I thought was just this regular, human girl. Someone who thought that werewolves, vampires, djinns, wendigos—all of that—were just myths.

Of course, Claud was never simple.”

***

She laughed when he told her.

He thought she was making fun of him, but she wasn’t. She laughed, because she _already knew._ “I’ve known since I was eight that I wasn’t exactly ‘normal,’” she informed him, a spark in her eyes, something otherworldly that John had glimpsed before. “I’m a spark; not a witch, but not completely human, either. I can manipulate mountain ash and other magics, but not very extensively. And yes,” she added, seeing John open his mouth, “I know Deaton’s a druid and that Tal’s an Alpha.”

John was speechless, and Claudia chuckled again. “This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”

John shook his head. “I only hunt monsters who kill innocents,” he said. Claudia nodded.

“Good.”

And that one word made him feel like a good man, a whole man.

***

“She already knew; her whole family—mostly on her mother’s side, but it wasn’t unheard of for the males to get it as well—had the ability to manipulate energy. Magic. It wasn’t a lot—but it was enough to pass on to you. She knew everything about what was going on supernaturally in Beacon Hills. But both of us were getting tired of being so active, we both wanted to settle down. So we did. I became a deputy, she became an elementary school teacher.

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t just magic that ran in her side of the family.”

***

“Isn’t there anything you can do? Or Deaton?” John begged, his voice barely above a whisper as he clung to Claudia’s slowly-withering hand.

Claudia shook her head. “Nothing. It’s a price that came when my ancestors made the deal—sacrifices would have to be made at some times. I just had the misfortune to be one of the sacrifices.”

John left later that night, leaving his son alone with his dying wife.

And when a banshee warned him that he needed to get back to the hospital, he ignored her. He didn’t want the supernatural to be involved in Beacon Hills—in his life.

***

Stiles was staring at him, and John deserved whatever Stiles was going to throw at him, verbally or physically. He’d lied to Stiles, had never pushed the issue when his never-dead hunter’s instincts had been screaming at him that _something supernatural was happening in this town._ He’d let Argent take point, hoped that the other hunter wouldn’t recognize him, would take care of the problem himself.

But it hadn’t been just one problem, it had morphed into more. And then, in the cellar, Argent had finally figured it out. He’d confronted John about it, and John had had to tell him the truth.

Chris had told him to tell Stiles, to come clean.

So John did.

“You’re a hunter?” Stiles whispered, staring at John in shock.

John shook his head. “Retired; I haven’t hunted in years. Since before you were born.”

“But you knew.” And there was the anger John had been expecting. “You knew that it wasn’t just a serial killer, with the Darach. You _knew_ there had to be more when Jackson was the kanima. You _knew_.” Betrayal crept in beside the anger, and John had to swallow hard to keep himself under some semblance of control.

“Yes. But I wanted— _needed_ to believe that I was either delusional, or that somehow it would all go away again. I didn’t want that world in my life, after what happened with—“

“Mom. You said her side of the family passed on the whole ‘spark’ business to me,” Stiles said, realization sparking in his eyes. “You didn’t want to believe it could find you again.” Stiles was up and pacing.

John sighed. “I would have told you soon, anyway, if Hale had stuck around and things had… progressed between you two.”

That got Stiles to freeze. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, his voice choked.

“You. And Derek. It’s obvious, Stiles, even if he never told you and you never looked it up. You’re mates.”

“ _Mates?_ ”

“Mates. Werewolves have one mate that they are completely compatible with—that they will protect above all others, love more than anyone else. You’re Derek’s. It would have happened soon enough; his wolf wouldn’t have let him deny it much longer.”

“So you would’ve waited until I’d _hooked up with a werewolf_ before letting me in on the fact that I didn’t need to sneak around and _lie_ to you about what I was doing?” Stiles shouted, his hands clenching into fists. “You would’ve let how many other people die, just because you didn’t want to man up and _face_ the problems that you _knew_ how to deal with, just because, oh hey, _like everything else that the supernatural comes in contact with,_ you got fucked over? Fuck that, Dad. That’s stupid, and selfish, and—“ Stiles was heading for the door; when he paused, John almost covered his ears to not hear the next part.

“And _it’s not what Mom would have wanted you to do._ ”


End file.
